How could she create a similar relationship with Samuel?
Smiling wryly, Frederica remembered the story of her mother giving Papa a contract of what she wanted and what he needed. They had not followed it precisely in their marriage, timing and children affected it, but eventually both Papa and Mama had fulfilled all their dreams and ambitions.
Together.
She should tell Samuel about her red scented soaps and her half ownership of the company. And she needed to ask him what he wanted from life. Did he intend to sell out of the army? Become a leader in Parliament? Watch over his estates? She was ashamed to admit to herself that she knew nothing of Samuel’s dreams.
Cupping her hands, Jim helped Frederica onto her horse. He led the animal out of the stable by the bridle and into the street just as Samuel arrived on his mare.
Jim tipped his hat to Samuel and then patted the saddlebag. ‘I packed your loaded pistol and extra shot. Be careful with it and be careful, my lady.’
Frederica smiled. He was a dear friend. ‘Thank you, Jim.’
Clicking her tongue, she urged her horse forward and took her place by Samuel’s side.
‘Perhaps you should stay home today.’
His words surprised her into pulling up on the reins of her horse. ‘Whatever for?’
She saw him swallow, not quite meeting her eyes. ‘I think the waiter, Peters, is a French informer. Perhaps even a former member of Napoleon’s army. He has the look and the build and his behaviour was not normal. It is dangerous for you to return to Genappe.’
‘But not for you?’
Samuel shook his head. ‘For both of us. But I would never willingly put you into danger.’
Frederica snorted. She was no simpering miss. If Samuel was going then so would she. ‘Jim loaded my pistol and I’ll keep it at the ready. Besides, two people are safer than one and perhaps the waiter has not guessed our real purpose.’
They rode silently together through town. There were not many fashionable people about at that time in the morning. The streets were filled with sellers and sweepers. Passing through the last street, they cantered across the field.
Frederica felt like a ball of nervous energy and the quicker pace helped calm her nerves. They rode about five miles, before they slowed their speed for the horses.
Patting her horse’s mane, she said quickly, ‘I make scented soaps.’
Samuel turned his head towards her. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I create and make scented soaps,’ she said slowly. ‘They are red and I add phenol to them to help keep cuts and scrapes clean from infection. I intend to sell them at my mother’s perfume shop and distribute the cakes throughout Great Britain. I hope to use her established export routes to expand the reach of my red soaps to Europe and then the Americas.’
He nodded his head, but did not speak.
‘You don’t mind?’ Frederica pressed.
Turning his head to look at her, he said, ‘Would it matter if I did?’
She shook her head. ‘No, but I still want to know what you think about it.’
‘Soap seems like a clean enough hobby.’
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when he said ‘hobby’ but then she realised he was gently teasing her. ‘It is not a hobby. It is a profession. How do you feel about your duchess working?’
‘The more money the merrier,’ he said, angling his horse so his leg brushed against hers. Her heartbeat quickened. ‘In case you were not aware, my dearest fiancée, I am rather short on funds. We will have to live quite economically for the first few years.’
Frederica wished she could tell how much Samuel was jesting and which words were the truth. ‘Yes, poor us. Living on the cheap in a palace.’
His lips twitched before splitting into a heart-stopping grin. ‘Precisely. Oh, Frederica, I knew exactly what I was getting into when I asked you to marry me. I am sure that you will be a magnificent duchess and businesswoman like your mother. You take after her in more than appearance.’
These words ought to have placated her, instead they made her feel worse. Samuel understood her, but she did not know him as well and it irked her.
‘What do you want to do with your future?’